I was on day
three of my quest to resolve the myriad of issues big and small that come with
a system change. I’d chatted with Chakrit online. I exchanged seemingly endless
emails. I’d thrice forfeited my computer for others to assist. I’d been on
perpetual loops of “Listen carefully to these options.”

But on this
morning, the mere sound of Peggy’s voice meant everything.

It was the
morning of my grown son’s birthday. He lives a thousand miles away. I wanted to
start his day with some Venmo cash. I tried to check my bank balance. But since I couldn’t remember the name of my
favorite musician—- Bruce Springsteen?
Or the guitarist I was dating when I opened my checking account.—I called yet
another dreaded 800 number.

“I can help
you with that,” Peggy said.

I wanted to
weep. It was a human voice. It was the feeling that help was on the way.

I loathed
that I’d allowed the petty to make me cranky. My problems were temporary first
world ones and I knew it. Still, the sound of Peggy’s voice was like reaching a
hotline in a hurricane.

In under two minutes, Peggy had me up and running. She left me uplifted and with a tip to not use my password manager for this particular institution. Note made.

We may prefer
technology to facilitate much of our communication. But for me, there is no
substitute for the sound of a human voice to provide both comfort and
connection.